Mahariel
by snippetcentric
Summary: A companion to 'Sapphire'. How the Dalish Warden simply became known as Mahariel. f!Mahariel x Merrill
1. Lyna

A/N: I was imagining how the Sabrae clan sounded and talked like if they were DA2-fied (Welsh accent, mostly wide green eyes). Also, because I tend to overthink things and the Dalish warden was the only one really named (correct me if I'm wrong!) in the sequel.

Once again, thanks to th1nm1nt for being my edit slave. And this may be the beginnings of a monster, so feedback and comments are much appreciated!

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><p>Spring bloomed in her favorite piece of the Wilds.<p>

She lay languidly on the grass, bow and quiver scattered by her sides as if she had nary a care in the world. Faint light trickled down on her through the canopy and she reveled in the gentle warmth on her skin, her light blonde hair fanned beneath her head like a halo. With closed eyes she took in the world she knew and loved, dampness of grass and earth below, melody of birds above, crystalline rhythm of the stream by her feet, scent of foliage and wildflowers filled the air. The sounds and smells that defined home: the forest. She sighed with content. Days like these she would rather take it easy and simply let the traps do the work. The clan was getting pudgy from all excess game she caught, and it had only been three months since she became a hunter. She hummed a silent tune and paid no heed to the fumbling presence looming behind her. Pointed ears twitched at the whisper of drawing steel but she remained unmoving, eyes still closed.

She rather liked seeing without eyes thus allowed her ears to paint the impending scene.

A footfall. A slither of taut rope. A snap. A whistling breeze.

"Gah!"

Traps did the work.

"Lyna! Get me down!"

She opened her eyes and revealed mischievous blue eyes beneath. She tipped her head backwards, with her inverted vision of her hunting partner, Tamlen, he seemed like he was floating up to the earth. One foot was held by a rope, tied to a precariously bent twig which obviously was not meant to hold a man's weight. The rest of him: strips of leather protection around the waist, weapons, and blond hair all draped upwards. His other flailing foot made the suspension bob, earning an ominous crack from the burdened branch.

The girl rolled off her back and laid on her belly, correcting her perspective. She propped her elbows on the grass and rested her chin on her palms, watching the ensnared Tamlen with a wide grin. His face looked swollen with all the blood rushing to his head. "Say please," she chirped teasingly.

"LYNA!" he shouted, voice odd and blubbery from the pull of earth on his cheeks and mouth.

Lyna got on her feet with a giggle. "Alright, alright," she brushed her leathers clean of grass and dirt with one hand and held her bow and quiver with the other to her side. With an arrow she pointed to her partner's bindings. "First, try reaching the snare, will you? And slowly, please."

Tamlen made an indignant face before complying. He brought his legs together and held his stomach taut, the slow effort of hauling himself to the bindings made his body tremble. Despite the cool spring breeze, sweat gathered on his forehead. His body curled with his chest against his legs and shaky hands reached for the snare.

As soon as his fingers enclosed on the rope, his eyes barely caught the blur of an arrow flying through and severing the bind. He crashed roughly on his back and bum, a thick bush and earth served as the only cushion. Tamlen groaned and heaved himself upright as the blonde girl skipped merrily towards him.

Lyna secured her bow and quiver behind her back and held out a helping hand, a sweet smile on her face. "Serves you right for trying to sneak up on me."

"How could I resist? You looked truly unguarded," the man muttered and took Lyna's hand and pulled himself to his feet, stepping away from the tangled bushes. "Should have known better..." He looked up to the tattered rope then to the girl before him, brows drawn together as if in deep thought.

"Is there something on my face?" Lyna asked as she brought a hand to her cheek, suddenly conscious.

"No, nothing," Tamlen turned away, looking embarrassed. "Why were you idling, anyway?" He roamed his eyes around the clearing then threaded over cautiously to the surrounding copse. He peered through each of the bushes then turned to Lyna with a curious gaze. "You only rest when you're hip-deep in game."

"I've left some traps, they should be enough. And we just caught that huge bear yesterday." Lyna stretched both her arms luxuriously as she joined her partner's side and rested a chin on his broad shoulder. His body felt tense. The girl looked curiously at Tamlen's face, a mere distance from her own. "Is there any problem, lethallin?"

"Yes...I mean no," Tamlen smiled sheepishly. "Well, it's been a while since you've received your vallaslin."

"Three months is hardly a while," Lyna said absently and pulled away from Tamlen, inspecting the thicket of blackberries before her. She knew where the conversation was headed, unions, as it had every day since she came of age. Lyna acknowledged that it was expected of her now that she was an adult, but part of her young mind simply could not wrap itself around the concept. At least the Keeper understood, after all, Lyna was the youngest hunter of her generation. Pity her hunting partner was not as emphatic.

"I'm just saying," the young man muttered and his hands balled into fists. "Do you have your eyes on someone?"

Lyna had to laugh, but regretted it as soon as she saw the pained look on Tamlen's face. With a shake of her head, she smiled. "No, I don't. I've told you, talk of betrothal feels weird when I've just become a hunter. For now, it's the only thing I want to be," she said with finality as she picked a berry and gently squeezed it between her fingers. "Blackberries are sparse this year," she declared in a further attempt to stray from the previous subject. "No wonder Merrill's so down," she giggled as she withdrew a small pouch from her sidepack and began stocking the fresh berries.

"Merrill again?" Tamlen perched himself on nearby boulder, dipping his bare feet into the stream. He began adjusting the bowstring of his weapon. "Why do you bother? She's the one avoiding us for no reason."

"She's our First, Tamlen, show some respect!" Lyna snapped, surprising even herself with the intensity of her voice. Merrill's sudden withdrawal from her peers was enough of a problem for the young hunter; she did not need Tamlen's unfounded hostility for the clan's First to add to the tension. She took a deep breath and met her partner's eyes, determined to get her point across. "And more than that, she's our friend. All that isolation can't be good for her, so the least we can do is reach out."

Tamlen averted Lyna's glare by staring on the ground. "I'm sorry, Lyna, it's just that...haven't you noticed the way she looks at you?"

The girl took pause. "...no." Curiosity trumped anger, her eyebrow lifted. "And what 'way' are you referring to?" If anything, Merrill did not seem inclined to throw her _any _kind of look. Merrill had withdrawn from the clan, completely immersing herself in the role of Marethari's First. She did not think much of it at the start, pinning Merrill's alienation on her new duties since she had likewise recently received her vallaslin. Lyna only became the wiser when she got the worse treatment in their circle of friends; Merrill addressed her by family name, a gesture reserved for formal company.

Tamlen looked at her, incredulous. He opened his mouth to say something, but only shook his head. "For someone with such great aim, you're incredibly blind." He smiled weakly at Lyna's pouting and returned to tweaking his bow. "At least we share the same lot."

"Maybe if you stopped with the riddles, I'll get it," she huffed. She kept her indignant façade in hope for an answer, at least until Tamlen raised dismissive hand. Lyna crossed her arms. "Fine, be that..."

Tamlen jerked his head to her direction, an index finger pressed to his pursed lips and his other hand pressed to the base of his ear. Lyna's eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed with understanding of Tamlen's actions. They were not alone. She slowed her own breathing and closed her eyes, listening for any movement; if she exercised it consciously Lyna had keener hearing than anyone in her clan. After a few moments her left ear twitched.

Leaves were crushed. Pebbles tumbled. A stumble, a yelp. Cursing and urging for their clumsy companion.

Lyna opened her eyes, a crease appeared between her brows. "Three men, shemlen. They're in a path thirty to forty paces west of here." She drew her bow. "By the direction they're taking they might stumble upon camp."

Tamlen smiled and drew his bow as well. "Can't have that, can we?" Before she could reply, her partner had already dashed silently into the forest.

She sighed. The Keeper had not so subtly told her to keep an eye on Tamlen; his eagerness to test his mettle against humans had always been a concern in the clan. Her People may not be fond of humans but would rather avoid any chance of conflict. Ever cautious, she notched an arrow on her bow and drew it halfway. "And I'm the younger one," Lyna muttered irritably before taking off after her partner.

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><p>Lyna felt her blood boiling within her, in stark contrast to the biting cold that seemingly enveloped her body. Oddly, she could have sworn she was being whisked through the ruins. By who...Tamlen? She opened her eyes to see her savior but only saw darkness. Was it this dark when they first entered the ruins? She cannot recall, mind-numbing pain impeded her recollection. Perhaps Tamlen avoided the blinding light from the mirror. She tried speaking but the air burned her chest and throat, resulting in violent coughs. Lyna felt warm fluid drip from her nose and mouth.<p>

It was blood.

"Mythal I'm going to die," she managed to whimper, before passing out.

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><p>A halla cry welcomed Lyna's senses into the waking world. Where was she? Her eyelids were heavy and the sticky seal of prolonged slumber threatened to tear her eyes should they open. She knew she was lying down somewhere in camp but the world whirled and felt formless beneath her. It was then she felt an unfamiliar weight resting on her chest, only to find it gone a moment later.<p>

"Lyna, are you awake?"

"M-Merrill, is that you?" the girl winced as her voice came out, her throat was dry as a shriveled twig.

"Yes, Lyna, it's me. I'll fetch you some water."

Merrill's voice was foreign to her ears. It sounded...subdued and she said something odd as well. As Lyna tried to ponder why or what, her head thrummed with a vicious ache. She gave up thinking for the moment. Lyna soon felt a trembling hand lift her head and the press of cool wetness against her lips. Water. Lyna drank greedily until Merrill withdrew the vessel from her mouth and was once again eased on the soft furs beneath her. Her arms protested when she tried to wipe the crust from her eyes. "Elgar'nan..." she hissed, but soon relaxed when she felt a damp cloth gently dabbing her eyelashes. "Ma serannas, lethallan," Lyna said weakly as she finally opened her eyes, momentarily seeing a blurry picture of Merrill. Was she crying? It was hard to tell with the moisture in her own eyes; harder when her vision dimmed yet again.

The soft brush of lips ferried Lyna to a dreamless sleep.


	2. Andruil

It had been an unhappy awakening.

Tamlen did not save Lyna, a human Grey Warden did. She supposed she should be at awe at encountering such an esteemed warrior but she could not even remember him. And certainly not while her partner was missing. She suffered from an unknown illness and had spent several days asleep in Keeper Marethari's aravel; an honor reserved for the Keeper and her First but a bane for the greviously ill, essentially a mark of death. It was a miracle she survived and was well, Marethari declared. Then, she was tasked along with Merrill to return to the ruins and find Tamlen.

Whatever was left of him.

Lyna stomped around camp to find the First, ignoring calls of relief, well-wishing, and sympathy. She likewise did not pay heed to the incessant burning within her veins. The young hunter had lied to Marethari, she knew and felt she was not well enough to be standing, let alone lead a party into the ghoul-infested ruins. But it did not matter, she must save Tamlen. _"Every one of the People is precious,"_ a thought tempered upon every Dalish since childhood. So great was her duty that she pushed back Hahren Paivel's words: _"You should have been more careful! You belong to more than yourself, you belong to your People." _Lyna could not afford to consider those for the moment, Tamlen would have done the same if their roles were reversed.

Curse his curiosity. And curse her own, even more.

"Lyna!"

She swallowed the bile building in her throat and spun to see Fenarel. Her face tightened impatiently as he jogged to her side.

"I heard you're going to those ruins to find Tamlen. Take me with you," Fenarel said, more of a statement than a pleading.

Lyna frowned, thoughtful. "I was told to bring only Merrill."

"I'm just as concerned as you are! Tamlen's my friend too!" Fenarel swept an arm before him and to his side, his green eyes gleaming with emotion. Lyna's heightened grimace made him regain his composure. "And the more of us, the better."

Lyna mulled over the offer. Discounting the chance of Fenarel falling ill, it made sense, his skill with the sword may come in handy should they encounter those horrid skeletons again. _As long as no one touches the blighted mirror we should be fine_, Lyna said to herself. "Alright, fine. You're going, but you'll do as I say." Fenarel made a slight nod as Lyna quickly skimmed the camp. "And have you seen Merrill? The sooner we leave, the better."

"Probably asleep," Fenarel said as he pointed towards the aravel Lyna shared with her adoptive mother, Ashalle. She gave him a questioning look. "You took her spot in the Keeper's aravel," he replied as his eyes softened. "She stayed with you until we were sure you'd pull through."

"Did she?" Lyna asked, more than a bit surprised since Merrill could not even stay by the bonfire whenever she joined. Then she remembered her dream, or at least she thought it was until now. She followed her friend's gaze as she tried to recall...

Water.

Merrill crying?

Darkness.

A butterfly on her forehead?

She winced, temples again ached with scant recollection and found her knees buckling. Fenarel took hold of her arms and gave Lyna a worried look. She deflected his concern with her biggest smile, taking considerable effort. "I'm good, I've simply yet to eat."

Fenarel stepped back but still had a hand on her elbow. "Are you sure? We could manage if you gave us directions."

"No! I need to be there!" Lyna cried and she was sure her desperation was as apparent to her companion as it was to herself. She inhaled sharply, willing everything in her to ignore the pain wracking her body. "I'll take us there myself," she said, more calmly, then nodded to the clan's crafter. "Go to Master Ilen for supplies, I'll have a quick meal with Merrill. Ma serannas, Fenarel," she said as she walked off, intent to avoid any more concern.

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><p>Lyna closed the squeaking boards of the aravel as quietly as she could and looked behind her. In the farthest corner of the room, Merrill lay on her bedroll, bundled in the dark fur of what looked like the bear she and Tamlen had caught a day ago. Or a week or more ago to be precise, considering how long she was out cold. Only Merrill's face was visible amidst the fur, looking like she was in the embrace of the huge animal. The genuine smile on Lyna's lips needed little effort.<p>

The hunter tiptoed over the bedrolls and personal effects strewn around the small space; scrolls, books, salves, clothes, even a magical staff. She smirked; Merrill always managed to find order in her own disorganized neatness. Lyna crouched beside her friend's sleeping form, digging a small jar of nuts and dried fruit from her clothing pile. She chewed on a walnut as she debated how she should wake Merrill; seeing her friend in such a restful state made Lyna hesitate in waking her. Merrill was clearly tired and had lost weight; the First's cheeks were gaunt and had dark circle under the eyes. Lyna's gaze began tracing the vallaslin lines on the sleeping girl's face, her mind and purpose wandering as she did. The elegant curved lines around the cheeks and forehead were reminiscent of halla horns, highlighting the fine features of Merrill's face. A warm feeling settled in her chest and she traced a finger along her own blood writing, a veneration for Andruil, goddess of hunt. She chose so at Merrill's suggestion, during better times.

Better times she remembered vividly.

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><p><em>"This is it," Merrill said as she brandished the parchment, its surface still wet from ink. "A complete veneration for Andruil."<em>

_Lyna looked at the scrawled drawing of a vaguely elven figure with intricate lines on its face. A mischievous smile crossed her lips. "...am I this ugly?"_

_Merrill pouted and placed the parchment on the other girl's lap. She pointed at the lines on the figure's face. "Just look at the vallaslin, will you?"_

_Lyna giggled and leaned her head against Merrill's shoulder as she examined the figure. The First may be poor at drawing faces but her skill with blood writing was a work of art. She imagined how the complex lines would look on her face. She also imagined how long and painful it would take to apply those lines on her face. A trickle of cold sweat fell down her neck. "I don't know...those are a lot of lines..."_

_"Don't be such a baby," Merrill chided with a nudge of her elbow then pointed to the tender lines on her face. "I made it out fine on my first try, and you're so much braver than me."_

_Still, she looked worriedly at the First. "But what if I don't?" Lyna almost punched through the parchment. "These ones under the eye look **painful**!"_

_Merrill shook her head and giggled. "Oh, fine. Let me have that, you baby." The First took back the parchment with one hand and a swirl of compressed air gathered around the index finger of her other hand. Lyna watched with awe as Merrill's fingertip undid some of the lines on the figure's face. The magical handiwork left a less complex version of the earlier vallaslin, particularly removing the lines below the left eye that ended by the base of the ear and those that covered the left corner of the mouth. "There," Merrill handed the parchment back to her friend. "That's the least allowed for the goddess of hunt."_

_Lyna studied the new version carefully with her eyebrow raised, then looked curiously at Merrill. "Are you sure this will look good on me?"_

_The First gazed upon her friend intently. "Oh, I think anything will look good on you."_

_Lyna would have laughed it off but instead found herself blushing at the statement. "Uhm...thank you, I suppose?"_

_Merrill seemed to realize what she said and immediately looked at the parchment instead. Lyna imagined her friend was as flustered as she was, if the color of her ears were any indication. "I mean yes, yes, I'm sure it will look good on you, I think this veneration suits you perfectly," Merrill rambled, pointing at left corner of the mouth. "And with that removed, it won't cover that dimple of yours."_

_Lyna's hand reflexively touched her own face. "I have a dimple?" She smirked to ease out the crease, and true enough her index finger felt an indent. The younger girl gave Merrill an amused look. "By the gods, Merrill. You know me more than I do!"_

_Merrill's mouth hung open and she blushed down to her neck. She then bolted up from the log they were perched on, throwing Lyna off balance. "I just remembered!" Merrill announced, voice too shrill as she caught the other girl's shoulder, saving the latter from a fall. Lyna was bewildered at the ramble of sentences that came next. "Keeper asked me to prepare some things for the ceremony. Please come by nightfall. Dareth shiral," the First rattled, and scuttled off **not** in the direction of the Keeper's aravel._

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><p>Lyna noticed Merrill had woken and was looking at her.<p>

"Mer-" she said, but bit her tongue when long fingers touched her cheek, trailing a line from its corner to the edge of her mouth. Lyna's skin tingled with the touch.

"Your skin is cold," Merrill mumbled with half-lidded eyes, her fingers staying on Lyna's face. "Are you real this time?"

"I-I am," the hunter stammered, unsure if her friend was awake or talked out of a dream. Doubt colored Merrill's drowsy expression, hence Lyna took the hand on her face and pressed it close. The First frowned, obviously perplexed. "See," Lyna had to smile at their predicament, the tension between them seemed forgotten. "I'm not a dream." She giggled at Merrill's wide-eyed realization.

Merrill bolted up from the bedroll, tearing her hand away from the hunter. "L-Lyna! I mean Mahariel!" Lyna winced at the formal address as the other girl looked away from her, staring at the dark fur she was bundled in. The hunter did not know what to make of Merrill's flushed cheeks. Anger, probably. She sighed inwardly.

Silence lingered until Merrill turned to Lyna, her face completely unreadable. "You're finally awake. Are you well?" she asked, voice low and neutral.

Lyna sat upright at the address, unable to deflect her friend's formality. Her body pulsed with pain as she did, but she maintained a straight face. "Yes, I've been told you're to thank for my care." She fished the pouch of blackberries from her pack and offered it to Merrill. "Here, for you."

Merill looked at the pouch then to Lyna and shook her head. "Thank the Keeper and the Creators instead. I merely kept watch."

"I got them for you," Lyna hid the building disappointment with a smile. "I'd given them sooner if we didn't..."

"Oh," Merrill seemed pensive for a moment then took the pouch from the hunter. She undid the fasten and peeked at the contents. The briefest of smiles appeared on Merrill's face before she regarded Lyna. "It is thoughtful of you. Ma serannas." Merrill offered some to Lyna, which she accepted, before popping a berry into her own mouth.

Lyna felt her heart soaring within her chest, along with the fluttering in her stomach. It was an unfamiliar feeling to the young hunter, but not unwelcome. It made her feel...giddy, like she did after a successful hunt. She discreetly looked at the other girl, who was obviously enjoying the fruit from the way she licked her lips clean of juice. She ignored the sudden heat in the room and chose to relish the moment. She and Merrill were best of friends again, however fleeting, and she realized how much she missed the First. Lyna was pondering if she should ask why Merrill was avoiding her, or everyone, for that matter.

"Mahariel?"

Neutral formality brought Lyna back to reality. The steady ache of her body reared itself again as she looked tiredly at the First. "Yes, Merrill?"

"Do you remember anything odd?"

The berry suddenly tasted like dirt in Lyna's mouth. She sighed. "I could scarcely remember anything after I fell in the ruins," Lyna looked at Merrill with pleading. "But if you're asking how I fell ill...I'd appreciate if you asked the Keeper instead. I don't think I want to recall the mishap."

The First frowned, then shook her head. "I didn't mean..." Merrill mumbled with hinting panic, making Lyna curious. The hunter's lips then formed a perfect 'o' shape, recalling her vague image of Merrill crying. Before she could say anything, however, the First had already stood up from her seat. "Nevermind," Merrill coolly said and looked down at the jar Lyna was holding. "You must be famished, I'll speak with the Keeper and make preparations while you eat." She stepped past Lyna. "See me by the Keeper's aravel once you're done."

"W-wait! Merrill I'm sorry I..."

The boards squeaked close behind the clan's First.

"...made you cry."

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><p><em><strong>Bonus content! Because I felt bad for scratching it out..<strong>_

_The Arlathvhen had just concluded and Lyna looked at the adults with avid curiosity. As a child she was not allowed to mix with the adults, but she was at least allowed to mingle with the other children. New faces were among them, both young and old, but some of their own were missing. The Keeper had explained the exchange between clans to the children, saying that it was good for their People. Still, it was a lonely thought for Lyna. As much as they were raised to treat every Dalish as family, regardless of their clan, but the prospect of having to leave the Sabrae for another scared her. She was quietly thankful she was not among those traded._

_That said, with great sympathy she looked at the trembling girl behind the Keeper. Every child was called to the bonfire to be introduced to their new First. The girl was just about her age, a bit shorter than her with dark hair and mournful green eyes, reminding Lyna of a skittish kitten. The young girl found her odd, she had imagined the First was at least older and more fierce, like Velanna. She frowned at the memory; the adults had to separate them when the other First called her a seth'lin, thin-blooded, and got tangled in a fistfight._

_"I hope she spits fire," Tamlen whispered beside her, then turned to Fenarel. "I bet she spits fire like that len'alas."_

_"Shu'p, Tamlen." The girl nosed towards their new clanmate. "Look at her, she's probably the healing sort."_

_The boy snorted. "You're just jealous you don't have the gift. Your father did, didn't he?"_

_"I don't need magic when I have these," she sneered as she raised her knuckles before Tamlen's face._

_Fenarel shushed them both."Keeper's about to speak." The blond pair took heed and turned their attentions on Marethari and her charge._

_The Keeper stepped aside, gently nudging the small girl to the forefront but the young First kept clutching at the hem of her tunic. Marethari gave the child a reassuring smile, then addressed her young crowd. "This is Merrill, she is joining us from the Alerion clan." The Keeper gently stroked the girl's dark hair. "She is my First and as you all know, she will be your Keeper someday. I hope you will all do your best to make her feel welcome." She turned back her young charge. "Would you like to say something, da'len?"_

_Merrill shook her head, violently, cheeks flushed dark red. Lyna stared with amazement, she never thought anyone could blush **that **hard._

_Marethari sighed then met Lyna's eyes. "Da'len, come." The girl was stunned for a moment, hoping she was not in trouble. The Keeper was particularly stern when she learned of the earlier scuffle. Her eyes searched Marethari for any sign of disapproval, but was only met with a kind gaze. Deciding it was safe, she shuffled from her seat to the Keeper. Marethari gestured to Lyna as she kept her eyes on the other girl. "Merrill, this is Lyna."_

_"Aneth ara," Lyna piped, grinning widely at the smaller girl._

_Marethari smiled with approval. "She will show you around camp, won't you, da'len?"_

_The young girl nodded eagerly. "Of course, Keeper!" she bubbled, taking it as a chance to redeem herself after punching the other First._

_Meanwhile, Merrill stared mutely at Lyna, mouth slightly agape. Finally, she tugged on the hem of Marethari's tunic but kept her gaze upon the other girl. "Her eyes are blue," Merrill said, as if the fact was unknown to the Keeper._

_Lyna looked away and covered her narrowed blue eyes with her hands. Most, if not every elvhen, had green eyes. The Keeper had assured her her eyes were rare, but not unprecedented, and highly coveted as a mark of pure blood. She did not feel like it though, given how much teasing the got out of it. The girl took the chance of the arlathven to find someone similar to no avail and met Velanna instead. The older girl's hurtful words echoed in Lyna's mind and she felt her cheeks burn with anger. The brat of a First had accosted her for having blue eyes, and apparently Merrill was of the same mind. Too bad she cannot punch **this** First._

_Before Marethari say anything, the young First whispered her true intentions with breathless awe._

_"They're beautiful..."_

_Lyna's face burned harder, but for a different reason._


	3. Sabrae

Keepers were learned in magic. The hostility of humans, flat-ears, and sometimes, the forest itself, demanded that Keepers and their Firsts were able to command an arsenal of destructive magic. Also, they served as the only healers of the clan and were expected to be masters in the healing arts.

Merrill believed she was on her way to fulfilling these expectations and was reasonably confident of their expedition to the ruins. She knew some primal and entropic spells that should aid them well. Admittedly, she had yet to learn of the creation and healing magic, but Merrill had compensated by stuffing her pack near to bursting with poultices and healing salves. The First thought they had little need of the salves, however, since she was with the best hunter of their clan.

That was when she thought they were only up against demon-possessed corpses and hostile animals. Nothing prepared her for these.

Merrill stared at the remains of the vile creatures that assaulted them as they made their way to the ruins. From little she knew about the world beyond her home, the creature's short and stocky stature made Merrill determine it was a dwarf, if just barely. That or the books and scrolls failed to point out that dwarves had rotting skin, pointed and disgusting teeth and stank of decay and death. Her magical sense made it worse; she could feel its soullessness and the void was instead filled with dark and fetid magic. She had read about the horrors more than once but even with the close encounter she could scarcely believe they were real.

"What were those creatures? Are those darkspawn?" she cried, though she already knew. She turned to her companions, Fenarel was right beside her, obviously shaken. She could not think less of the hunter, history having told of hardened warriors fleeing at the sight of darkspawn. Lyna, meanwhile, was several paces ahead crouching by a fallen monster, prying an arrow out of its eye socket. The First restrained her horror as she walked towards the hunter, refusing to be the skittish waif Lyna had grown up with. She intended to ask if the hunter had previously encountered the monsters. "Mahariel, have you-"

Merrill's words died in her throat as she approached. "It can't be..." she whispered in despair. There was no mistaking it, Merrill was right beside the hunter then. Lyna tilted her head up to face her, her usually rosy cheeks were ashen. Even the vibrant blue eyes she loved seemed dull and lifeless, not needing her magical sense to see. Her heart wrenched in her chest.

Lyna felt like...like one of _those things._

"Merrill?" the pallid hunter called, looking at her as if she was the one ill.

The First forgot herself as she cupped the other girl's face in her hands and pulled her close, as if meeting Lyna's dull eyes will cure her. "How are you feeling? Are you alright?" Futile questions, as Merrill already knew. It took several moments for her to register Lyna's bashful face. The First reluctantly withdrew and willed to still the growing panic within her.

Fenarel, for his part, said nothing about the First's erratic behavior. He looked at the other hunter with great concern. "Merrill's right, you do seem... pale."

Lyna shook her head and arms before her, giving her companions a lame smile. "I'm alright, don't worry about me!" She huffed with mock bravado, but her slight wince did not go unnoticed to Merrill. The First's brows knitted with concern. "You two are worse than Ashalle," Lyna sighed as she lead off towards the ruins. "Let's just hurry, if these things are about then Tamlen is in greater danger than we thought."

"Oh...right." The mention of Tamlen revived Merrill's defenses. It only took a moment to shrug off her emotions as she followed the hunter to the ruins.

_Even without Tamlen, Mahariel is not mine, she can never be mine, _Merrill recited to herself, over and over, as she watched the other girl's back.

It was the only way she could motivate herself to continue their search.

* * *

><p>Merrill had to drown out a squeal with an unnatural bout of coughs when Duncan, the Grey Warden, mentioned a cure for Lyna. She looked at the broken pieces of the mirror, the eluvian, on the ground. Merrill could practically see the Taint oozing from the shards. The First frowned and looked away; it was the blighted thing that cursed her friends. For her, the Grey Warden had not done enough.<p>

Lyna, however, did not seem to share her enthusiasm. Probably because Duncan had likewise said it was nigh time to give up on Tamlen. "No," Lyna said through gritted teeth. Her dull blue eyes flickered at the Grey Warden not with its usual mirth, but with loss. Maybe anger. Probably both. Merrill was not sure as Lyna had rarely shown either. "You lie."

"Listen to me, child..." Duncan said evenly. "He had been tainted for several days without aid from your Keeper. Trust me when-"

"YOU LIE!" the hunter spat, lunging at the human. Luckily, Fenarel was able to restrain the girl, taking hold of her arms behind her. Lyna made a slight struggle, but settled with glaring. The First could hardly recognize the feral rage on Lyna's face. A selfish pain stabbed in Merrill's chest, as much she mourned Tamlen's apparent loss she cannot help but be jealous of Lyna's devotion to their friend. So great was Lyna's anger that the deathly pallor on her face was overtaken by a vicious flush. Her words for the Grey Warden dripped with disgust. "We will find him _alive_, shemlen, now get out!"

Duncan regarded their group for a moment, then made a solemn shake of his head. "If you feel that way, by all means, take another look." Merrill was surprised when the human turned to her, making her snap in attention. "You are Marethari's apprentice, correct?"

Merrill adopted a more dignified stance, that which she ascribed worthy of the title. "Yes, her First actually."

"Hurry back to camp, I'll speak to your Keeper about the cure." He spared a glance at the seething hunter as he stepped past them. "Being near these shards only speeds the taint, maybe she'll listen to you." Merrill's heart skipped a beat and along with her companions, they directed their gazes upon the hundreds of shards surrounding them.

Despite visibly blanching, Lyna maintained her threatening glower at Duncan. "I suffer more from your presence than from the mirror. Now _go."_

Duncan's brows furrowed and made a slight bow. "May your gods be with you." With that, the Grey Warden was gone.

"Finally," Lyna hissed as she pushed off Fenarel. She rubbed her wrists and kicked whatever shards on her feet away. After the outburst Lyna's pallor had returned with a vengeance. Merrill could see the other girl wavering with every step she took, but determination never left her voice. "Now let's find Tamlen."

Fenarel moved to follow the hunter but stopped when the First remained rooted on her spot.

"No," Merrill said, steadying the quake building behind her throat. She brushed aside the sudden hurt on Lyna's face. "You're not well. We're going back to camp."

Lyna shrugged her narrow shoulders and put on a small grin. "I'm fine! Honestly, Merrill-"

Merrill marched upon the hunter, leveling her gaze against the icy blue eyes. The taint fiercely radiated from the hunter, if it was anyone other than Lyna the First was sure she would have wretched away in disgust. "Don't lie. You've been treated and you're still..." she trailed off, the word _dying_ came to mind, but she was unable to say it. She took the hunter's hands, not caring if her facade of indifference had crumbled. "You're sick, almost as sick as when you first fell. We should go back to camp."

"As much as I hate it, the shem spoke the truth," Fenarel nodded as he placed a hand Lyna's shoulder. "We don't want to lose you as well, lethallan."

"I..." Lyna trailed off and looked away from her companions. "I know_...I know."_ she deflated with a sigh. "Just one more look, that's all I ask." The hunter returned her gaze to Fenarel and to the other girl, giving Merrill's hands a tight squeeze. "I can't live with myself if I give up now. Please."

Merrill wondered if the fierce loyalty was borne out of friendship or love. Not that asking made any difference.

_Mahariel is not mine._

The First strangled the emotions inside her, once again assuming her mask. "Then let us make haste, for our brother, Tamlen."

Lyna nodded curtly, eyes wet and grinning widely from sheer happiness; the sight made Merrill's insides curdle with longing. "Ma serannas!" the hunter cried and bound deeper into the chamber. "We've yet to check here..."

_She can never be mine._

* * *

><p>"Ask Hahren Paivel to prepare a funeral for Tamlen while I speak with the Grey Warden regarding the cure," the Keeper said evenly, but there was steel behind her voice as she met Lyna's challenging eyes. "Return to my aravel once you are done."<p>

Merrill stood a distance from Marethari and Lyna but still saw her friend's hands clench into fists. She knew Lyna well enough to know what was going in her mind right now. Without a body to bury, Lyna would be looking at the funeral as an abandonment of her friend; even more so when taken along with the Keeper's decision to flee the Blight.

"Ma nuvenin, _Keeper." _Lyna slurred the last word, bitterness nothing but evident.

Merrill looked mournfully at Lyna as she walked away. It may seem harsh but the Keeper was right in her decision. The Blight threatened the entire clan and however precious every Dalish may be, the clan shall always be first and foremost. Merrill was drilled with such way and thinking, as Marethari's heir. It did not make the decision any easier, though.

"Da'len," the First recovered from her thoughts and found the Keeper right before her. "We are about to discuss the cure. Would you like to join us?"

She looked at the towering Grey Warden before her and made a slight nod. "Yes, Keeper, I'm honored." She was curious about the cure to the vile illness, and perhaps she might even learn a thing or two.

They made their way inside the Keeper's aravel, Merrill coming in last in respect of rank. After she closed the boards, she met Marethari's gaze and gestured towards the kettle and brazier used for steeping tea. Merrill thought that Duncan must be really held in high regard since the Keeper was affording him not mere tolerance but real hospitality. _I suppose I would too, if he's the only one who could cure Mahariel. _The First nodded and busied herself with the chore.

Merrill's ears pricked as Duncan began to speak. "Your healing magic is formidable, Keeper. I have never seen anyone still the taint as long as you have."

Marethari accepted the remark with a slight smile. "It was more of the child herself than my healing, Warden. She had always been special." The Keeper straightened her back and looked squarely at Duncan. "Now, if you please, if we could offer any help in gathering the ingredients for this cure, we'll be more than happy to provide."

Duncan's jaw tensed. "It's not that simple, I'm afraid. The cure I speak of..." The warden braved Marethari's narrowed eyes and frown. "...is to become a Grey Warden."

_That was unexpected, _Merrill thought as she lifted the hot kettle from the brazier. She imagined the cure was an antidote. She caught sight of Marethari as she retrieved the cups and became puzzled. The Keeper had become pale. Merrill's brows furrowed in thought and then realized why. She likewise blanched.

"You mean you'll be taking her from us," Marethari whispered, echoing Merrill's mind.

The kettle trembled in Merrill's hand. _It's merely a title, Merrill...once the she becomes a Grey Warden she'll..._

"Yes, I do not offer this out of charity." Duncan voice interrupted her thoughts. "She will likely never come back."

The kettle dropped with a loud clatter.

"Merrill..." Marethari jerked her head towards the First, reproach plain on her face.

"I-I'm sorry, Keeper," she plunged down to her knees and wiped the hot puddle with a rag. "Please, go on."

Marethari kept her gaze upon Merrill for a moment, then turned back to Duncan. "Can you induct her before you take leave?"

"I'm afraid not. The cure," Duncan stroked his beard as he shook his head, "Or rather the ritual, to become a Grey Warden, requires some materials available only in the Warden camp, in Ostagar. As you see, time is of the essence."

Merrill watched the Keeper silently consider Duncan's words while panic raced in her mind. Surely the Keeper would not allow it, would she? They have just lost Tamlen and cannot very well lose another child of their clan. The girl's eyes misted as the Keeper's gaze met her own. Merrill immediately turned away and wiped her eyes, then rose on her feet to prepare another batch of tea. Willing to still her panic, Merrill remembered the Keeper's words; Marethari spoke of creating a cure on her own if she could examine the mirror. Merrill's mind clicked into focus. Right, the mirror. They could go back to the ruins, retrieve a piece and create a cure. It was better than...

"Very well, Duncan of the Grey Wardens," Marethari finally spoke. The girl looked expectantly at the Keeper, but was answered with the foreboding frown that always turned her bones into jelly.

_Keeper, no._

"We have little choice. I am honored to entrust our best hunter in your care." Before Merrill could open her mouth, Marethari had risen to her feet and turned to Duncan, making a sweeping arc with her arm towards the boards of the aravel. "If you please, I need a moment alone with my First."

"Thank you, Keeper," Duncan rose to his feet and made a small bow. "I assure you, your hunter is in good hands."

As soon as they were alone, Merrill found her voice. "Keeper, Mahariel doesn't need to go," the girl said, straining to keep her tone level. "We could work on the mir-"

"No, da'len, we can't." Marethari raised a hand before the First could say another protest. "Even with the mirror, I can't assure that I can find a cure. And even if I could, it probably won't be ready in time." Marethari's expression became solemn. "You've seen how sick she is."

Tears threatened to spill from the girl's eyes as her emotions escaped through her lips. "But we can't just give Mahariel away to the Wardens! Not without trying!" Her eyes searched the aravel for comfort but found none. There was only Marethari, and she would give Lyna away. Her knees buckled and fell. "We've just lost Tamlen, we can't..._I can't._.."

Marethari lowered herself on her knees and drew the young girl into a hug. Tears freely flowed from Merrill's eyes. "Hush, child," she cooed into her First's ear while stroking the short dark hair. "I know it's painful but it has to be done."

Merrill sobbed quietly on Marethari's shoulder. She does not know what to think; she does not want Lyna to die but neither was she ready to be separated from the hunter. To put it selfishly, both options ended the same way for Merrill; she would never see Lyna again. It was as if there was no option at all.

"Keeper?" Lyna's familiar voice rang from outside the aravel. "Hahren Paivel is making arrangements."

Marethari gently lifted Merrill's head, meeting her gaze as she wiped the tears away from the girl's cheeks. "Wait here while I speak with Lyna, da'len."

Merrill shook her head. "No, Keeper, if you're sending her away then this is the last time I'll see her."

The Keeper stood from her seat and smiled solemnly at her charge. "Very well, but fix yourself first. I believe she could at least stay for the funeral."

Merrill dried her face with her palm as she watched Marethari leave the aravel. The First had already accepted that her fondness for Lyna could never be anything more than one-sided; but losing her entirely left her as vulnerable as the day she realized her ill-fated feelings. She closed her eyes and slumped upon the wooden floor as she tried to arrange her thoughts. Merrill could vividly see her friend in her mind; long and slender limbs, pink lips, smooth skin painted with vallaslin, golden hair and bright blue eyes. She could hear Lyna's lilting voice and how pleasant it chimed with her easy laughter. She tried to imagine how touching all these beautiful things would have felt.

And tried to imagine a world without her.

...

She couldn't. Even in her mind she couldn't.

"How pathetic," she whimpered bitterly.

A crack of a sob escaped her throat. Merrill covered her face with her spindly arms and fought the tears forming in her eyes.

"No! Let go of me!" Lyna's frantic scream pierced through the aravel and Merrill, making the First bolt up from the floor. "I won't go! You can't make me go!"

Marethari's soothing voice came next. "Calm down, da'len. This is for your own-"

"NO!"

The First scrambled out of the aravel and saw the entire clan gathered in a circle surrounding the scene before her. Fenarel had his arms wrapped around Lyna's arms and lithe body as the latter was kicking and screaming. Marethari was right before Lyna, with arms outstretched in pleading. Duncan, meanwhile, had a hand to his bloody lip and warily looked at the hysterical hunter. Merrill stepped closer and saw the unabated tears on the hunter's face.

Lyna continued her struggle, seemingly unaware of the crowd gathered around them. "I'd rather _die _among my people than live without them!"

"It is too late, Lyna, I have conscripted you and the Keeper has allowed it." Duncan wiped away the blood on his mouth with a hand. "You _will _be a Grey Warden."

"I don't CARE!" The hunter screamed as she drew her head forward and jerked it backwards, squarely hitting Fenarel's nose. The young man staggered from the blow and Lyna tore herself from his grasp. She spun around and scowled at Duncan, crouching low on her toes as her fingers hovered over the handle of the dagger on her back. "I understand having to leave without Tamlen but giving me to this shem?_" _She threw a brief look at the Keeper before returning her gaze on the Warden, who had by then likewise reached for his weapon. Fresh tears sprang from her eyes. "What happened to 'never again shall we submit'?_"_

Marethari looked sadly at the girl, tears likewise started to cloud her eyes. "It is this or death, da'len and we would not want to see you waste away and succumb to the taint."

"And I told you I'd rather DIE!" Lyna cried hoarsely. Her eyes darted around the crowd, searching for something. Merrill followed her gaze and realized the girl was looking at the lake that bounded the camp. She gasped.

"Ly-"

The hunter became a blur. Despite the sickness slowing her down, Lyna sped past and leaped through the clansmen blocking her path. Before any of them or Duncan could even lift a finger, the soft noise from the lake's still waters said the girl had already disappeared into it.

Merrill and Duncan had pushed ahead of the crowd running towards the lake. The First's palm lit up, allowing more to be seen under the settling dusk. Her eyes looked at the small ripples, hoping they would show the way to the hunter but the greater tranquility of the lake refused to betray Lyna.

Duncan strained his eyes in the dark and only gave up when Marethari appeared at his side. "Stubborn girl," he said with a shake of his head. "We're losing precious time."

Marethari closed her eyes as she rubbed her temples before turning to Merrill. "Arrange a search party, da'len. She can't have gotten far."

"Ma nuvenin!" Merrill spouted before she walked briskly to the rest of the clan. As she left, however, her keen ears still caught the Keeper's words to Duncan.

"...without healing she may not last the night."

Merrill's stride broke to a sprint.

_Mahariel, where are you?_

* * *

><p><em>Edit and AN: Ah, I seem to keep forgetting these rants. I replayed the Dalish origin to see if this little scenario is possible and lo & behold, it is! Except the running away thing, that's just an addition.  
><em>


	4. Mahariel

A/N: Final chapter. Again, I implore you, do not mob me. Thanks for your support! More notes below. Again, kudos to th1nm1nt for proofing and edit! He is such a dear.

Disclaimer: Characters and eulogy not mine, they belong to Bioware and EA. Derivative work is, however, mine.

* * *

><p>The oppressive darkness of the night and forest did nothing to ease the foreboding Merrill felt. It was quiet. Too quiet, in fact. Merrill had noticed during the earlier expedition to the blighted ruins, but it was confined only in that area of the Wilds and quite a distance from camp. Even when they returned from the ruins, most of the forest was still teeming with wildlife. But the Blight was spreading fast; the customary howl, hoot, and chatter of animals having disappeared. Time not only ran against Lyna, but the clan as well.<p>

"Elgar'nan, it just had to be _Lyna_," Fenarel sighed as he examined the ground while Merrill provided light, holding the torch above him. "Fen'harel may be easier to track."

The First scanned the ground as well and by the looks of the grass the missing hunter had not been there. She lifted her head to the surrounding copse, frowning. Not a twig or branch out of place. Her eyes looked at the faint light from the other search parties, flitting like wayward fireflies in the dark. Merrill's hand glowed with magic, pulsing thrice in signal of a question: 'Any trace of Mahariel?'

All six lights waved sideways twice; the answer was 'No'.

Fenarel shook his head as he stood up and rubbed the bridge of his nose, broken mere hours earlier. It had been a quick healing job and only the bone was fixed, the swelling yet to disappear. The hunter walked listlessly and Merrill followed close behind, wondering if there was any order in his direction. The loud groan that came later told the First there was none.

"This is hopeless, the Blight would sooner take us than find her," the hunter groused.

"You don't know that!" Merrill snapped, immediately thankful for the dark as her indifference became a scowl. She cleared her throat as she drew the torch away from her face and scanned for any tracks. Again, no signs of Lyna. As she scoured her mind for other ways of finding the hunter, she addressed her companion absently. "She's sick and scared, she has only us to count on."

"It's her own damn fault she's gone and as far as I know, she doesn't want to be found," Fenarel folded his arms on his chest as he watched the First press ahead of him. "She's risking the clan, Merrill. You should know this better than me."

The girl bit her bottom lip. She snubbed Fenarel _and _the nagging First within her, instead choosing to listen to the lovestruck idiot wanting to find Lyna. Her hand parted a small thatch as Fenarel let out an exhausted sigh. She then glanced upwards, seeking the full moon through the thick canopy of the forest. "The Keeper said to search until the moon is at its peak. We still have time."

"You weren't like this with Tamlen."

Merrill froze, then spun around and met Fenarel's disapproving gaze. She found herself on the defensive, thinking the hunter hinted partiality for Lyna; true it may be, but she couldn't help favoring the person she was in love with and it certainly did not make her a poor friend. "Tamlen's different, he was gone for days, Mahariel has a better-"

Fenarel's glare cut her off. "Don't play dumb, Merrill. I know."

The First simply stared at the hunter, dumbfounded, waiting for details but none came. She rolled her shoulder irritably and turned back to the thatch. "I don't know what you're talking about," Merrill said as she felt her temper rising. "And is it so odd? I didn't ask you why _you're_ so eager to find Tamlen. Why are we even talking? We should be looking for our friend."

Silence passed between them and allowed Merrill to arrange her thoughts. Despite lack of experience in tracking, she was well-versed with the the task through her books. It was tedious to check and cross-check every twig or rock with the knowledge in her head, but it was worth the effort. As Merrill pushed through the small bush, her ears pricked at the hum of a nearby brook. A certain page with relevant words emerged in her mind. As she spun to face her companion, the First almost jumped when she saw Fenarel already beside her. She wanted to share her thoughts, but open dismay on the hunter's face brought her temper back. Merrill's eyebrows knitted. "_What now_, Fenarel?"

"I know about you and Lyna."

Merrill's jaw dropped, her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Questions ran in her mind; what did he mean with 'you and Lyna'? Should she correct him and say her affections were unknown to their friend? Was she so obvious with her feelings? Did anyone else know? Should she deny it? She only bothered to act on the last query. Her perfectly-honed mask came on. "Mahariel's a friend, nothing more."

Fenarel only snorted with a smug smirk. "I saw what you did in the aravel, Merrill."

The girl blanched as her insides turned cold. She evaded Fenarel's gaze. "I-I wasn't-"

The hunter once again stepped into her vision, frowning as he pointed to his lips. "You kissed her, Merrill. I don't know about Lyna but I've seen how you look at her." Fenarel threw his hands up, nostrils flaring with frustration. "What were you thinking? You're both women!"

Merrill bit her bottom lip as her face darkened along with her thoughts; her People were so mired in tradition that she was not exactly surprised with Fenarel's reaction. This, however, did not ease the sickening nausea she felt. She could not decide between anger, fear, or shame, mostly because Lyna's life hung in the balance. A slight frown appeared on her face as she thrust the torch to Fenarel. "We should split up," she said, a command rather than a suggestion. When Fenarel did not take the torch, Merrill took his hand and stuffed the light into it. "You know the signals, wave once when you find her, twice if no, thrice if you're asking the other group." The First did not wait for a reply and walked away from the hunter.

A moment passed before Fenarel recovered, reaching for the girl's wrist but a spark of electricity deterred his hold. Instead, he called out in desperate apology.

"Merrill, wait! I'm sorry I-"

"It's alright, no need to apologize," Merrill said hurriedly as she stopped her retreat. She knew Fenarel was stubborn and would apologize to no end, but the First simply could not stand him at the moment. Neither could she outpace him. _Only one thing left to do. _Merrill drew her staff and tapped into her magic, expending more mana than she should; she needed to make a good deal of distance, after all. In a blink of the eye, rows of roots enclosed around the First. She was mildly amused when the hunter's eyes went wide with shock, Merrill always thought it was a rather showy spell. "I'll see you later, Fenarel," she said dismissively before disappearing into earth and foliage.

* * *

><p>Merrill shivered as she stepped out of the water and had much of it dribbling down her robes. She had misjudged the distance of the stream and ended up emerging from the middle of it. With a sigh, the First thought about drying herself by summoning flames but decided against it, not wanting to set herself on fire. Elementals were never her strong point. Giving up on getting dry, the bright glow from her palm along with the moon's pale light eased her back to her task.<p>

She looked around and saw that she was in the edge of a small clearing, surrounded by small copses of bushes and trees, uncertain if it was the same stream connected to the lake. Judging from the magic she used, the First estimated that she was at least hundreds of yards away from the other search parties. Merrill sighed with her head down along with the tentative step she took. If the books and her memory served her right, an excellent way to evade tracking was to take a path through water. And Lyna was smart enough to do that.

If she was wrong, she would have wasted time, magic and resources, but the clearing was a good starting point as any. The feel of soft wildflowers beneath her toes would have sent her frolicking during better times but not now. She had to find Mahariel. With head held high she took another step.

Squish.

Merrill jerked her head down as she willed her light to grow brighter.

The thatch of wildflowers were soaked with dark blood. Darkspawn blood; she could see its dead owner a pace or so ahead, an arrow was lodged on its forehead. With the scene commanding her full attention, her eyes roamed the entire clearing before her. It was littered with dead monsters, most had deadly projectiles lodged to their vitals. Infinitely thankful for being downwind, she noticed a familiar figure in the center of death. Even with her back turned Merrill recognized the gore-crusted blond hair.

Like a morbid statue, a blood-soaked Lyna remained unmoving as she lay on her haunches despite her intruding presence. The hunter's arms remained prostrate at her sides and held a bow and arrow in her hands, with her chin sagging to her chest. "Mahariel!" she cried, barely remembering her self-censure. Unrewarded with any kind of response, she feared the hunter may be dead. Merrill felt her legs shake beneath her as she hurried towards her friend, unmindful of the bodies under her naked feet.

"Don't come any closer," the hunter mumbled weakly, finally acknowledging her company.

Merrill stopped her approach, the sight of Lyna's profile over her shoulder sending shivers down her spine. The dim light cast a shade of horror over the hunter's features and the dried blood covering most of her face did not help in the least. The eyes Merrill had coveted with much desire seemed foreign to her then, replaced by seemingly glowing orbs of a spectre from the Beyond. An unspoken threat emitted from the orbs.

Unyielding, Merrill recovered from her state and resumed walking towards the hunter. Their relations may be strained but Lyna could never hurt one of the clan. "By the Creators! Are you alright? Are you hurt? I have poultices here if you are." With glowing hands she shuffled through her wet pouch even as she approached and silently prayed that the medicines were unsoiled. Her eyes and hands quickly sifted through the numerous concoctions. "Quick, we should go back to camp and-"

"I said don't come any closer!" Lyna's cry erupted through the forest and tore the First away from her pack. Lyna was on her feet then, facing her with a bow and arrow drawn and aimed right at her heart. Fear slowly dawned upon Merrill as she froze in place. "W-what are you d-doing?" the First stammered, still unbelieving that the hunter could even consider raising a weapon against her.

The tortured expression along with the shaky bow betrayed Lyna's intentions. Merrill allowed herself to relax, despite the hunter's firm voice and wavering arrow. "I'm not going Merrill, _I'm not."_

Merrill's eyes widened in surprise, but soon narrowed in disbelief. "But you're going to die!" she cried and felt foolish for stating the obvious.

"Hah!" Lyna spat, a scowl added to the horror of gore on her face. Merrill felt her blood froze at the glare the hunter gave her along with the anguish from her voice. "As if _you care_! You don't care what happens to me!"

The First visibly winced; Lyna's words had pierced her heart worse than the arrow ever could. It was no time to argue, but Merrill could not stop her emotions from taking reign. "I do care about you, Lyna! I-"

"Oh, now you call me 'Lyna'?" the hunter asked hoarsely as her face contorted with disgust. "Now you _suddenly _care?" Lyna shook her head then threw it back as she broke into cackling. Long, mocking and loud cackling.

With each and every sound from Lyna, Merrill felt the sorrow their wedge had caused. _It's my fault, but it had to be done. _Even in her mind the words rang hollow. The First fought the withering feeling the mocking sound imposed as her hands balled into fists and became unmindful of maintaining light; the pale moonlight became their only weapon against the dark. Not that she minded, Merrill could not bear to see the spite on Lyna's face. As the hunter continued her tirade, her arms sank down along with her weapons and she fell on the ground upon her haunches. Slowly, the chaffing laughter broke down to grating chuckles then finally died altogether. Uncomfortable silence settled between them; with Lyna staring blankly to the side while Merrill stared at the top of her companion's head.

It was then the First noticed a small sapling behind the hunter, the hastily packed earth around it said it was recently planted. It only took a moment for Merrill to realize it was a grave. "Y-you found-"

Lyna feebly shook her head. "If the Keeper can make an empty grave, so can I."

Once again her eyes drifted to Lyna's dirty face and saw two clear trails from her eyes down to the cheeks. As Merrill stepped closer she caught a glimpse of the moonlight reflecting upon the tears running down. Without warning or reason, tears spilled from her own eyes. Merrill sank to her knees and rested her palms on her lap. She closed her eyes in deference as words for the departed poured from her lips.

"Swiftly do stars burn a path across the sky, hastening to place one last kiss upon your eye. Tenderly land enfolds you in slumber, softening the rolling thunder. Dagger now..." Merrill's breath hitched, realizing that the next words brought home reality. She wiped the fresh tears from her face and stilled her voice for her duty. "Dagger now sheathed, bow no longer tense. During this, your last hour-"

A soft sob from Lyna made her pause for a moment, enabling Merrill to catch her own sorrow. In the clearest voice she could muster, the First ended her solemn task.

"...only Silence."

When Merrill opened her eyes, she saw that the hand on her lap was covered with Lyna's own; the latter was intently watching the empty grave. Merrill allowed the hand to linger as she shared herself in mourning, not minding the niggling longing within her chest nor the wretched taint from the hunter. They stayed that way awhile, until a bittersweet smile appeared on the Lyna's face. "I didn't think you'd look for me," she said, squeezing her friend's hand along with the statement.

As Lyna's solemn eyes met her own, it took all of the First's resolve not to break down then and there. Instead, Merrill pulled her hand away from her friend as she picked a damp bandage from her pack. "It's my duty, lethallan," she curtly said as she held out the bandages to the other girl. "Here, your face is dirty," Merrill offered, along with a wan smile.

Lyna merely looked at the damp cloth then at Merrill, her bittersweet smile became outright sorrowful. "Why do you hate me, Merrill?"

"I don't!" Merrill blurted out, then caught herself with a sigh. "I don't...it's just that..." she began again calmly as she carefully dabbed the moist bandages against Lyna's cheek, starting from the trail cleared by tears and avoiding the hunter's accusing eyes. The hunter surprisingly did not budge, allowing Merrill's tender touch. _Probably waiting for an answer, _the First thought. And it was so easy to give Lyna the real reply: _Because I'm an idiot who fell for you and I know it is weird and neither you nor the clan will ever accept it so I chose to suffer in silence. _The real answer mattered even less than before, now with Lyna's impending departure. It was Merrill's turn to make a lame smile as her eyes and fingers lingered on the corner of Lyna's lips.

"Well?" The movement from Lyna's mouth tore Merrill away from her thoughts.

The First looked at the other girl's face briefly before pushing the strands of crusted blonde hair away from the face. Merrill's chest suddenly felt heavy as the person before her looked like Lyna again, and yet she did not; the pallor and clammy skin told as much. Marethari's magic had almost ran its course. She patted a clean cheek before pulling her hand away. "It's best if you don't know, lethallan."

Lyna chuckled weakly. "You sound just like the Keeper," the hunter whispered as she lay her head upon Merrill's lap. The First's fingers instinctively worked out the knots, tangles, and gore out of the blond hair. A deep, despairing sigh escaped the hunter's throat. "I'm not going back, Merrill," Lyna whispered, conviction etched even in the hushed tone.

"We..." Merrill paused, then decided to let it go. If she had any hope of convincing Lyna to return to the clan without issue, the First realized she had to drop the facade. Merrill tucked a mass of hair behind Lyna's ear, allowing her to see her friend's face. "-_I_ don't want to see you die, lethallan."

"I'm not going to die." At that Lyna straightened to a seat and deftly pulled something out of her pack. Despite being wrapped in dirty fabric, Merrill knew its contents. Lyna placed it upon the dying patch of earth between her and Merrill and carefully unbound the wrappings. The tainted shard gleamed ominously under the moonlight.

Merrill threw both the shard and Lyna an incredulous look. "You have this and you didn't tell the Keeper?"

"I didn't," Lyna replied with a shake of her head. "She mentioned a possible cure from the blighted thing so I went back to the ruins. It was easy enough until I ran into these things," the hunter said as she glowered on the darkspawn corpses.

Merrill's throat tightened at the hopeful look on Lyna's face. She remembered Marethari's resignation upon finding the cure. Irony dictated she repeat the same words. "Lyna, I've spoken with the Keeper. Even if she could find a cure, it may not be ready in time."

"I'm not expecting anything from her," Lyna hissed, unable to hide her disdain for their Keeper. Dull eyes once again met Merrill's with much hope. "It's your help I'm looking for."

"M-me?" Merrill drew back in surprise. She had not thought of finding the cure on her own; now that the possibility presented itself, the pressure made her dizzy. Guarded insecurities gushed from her lips. "I don't think I can do that. I don't even know where to start! I haven't even learned healing magic yet and you need that from the Keeper! I can't..." Merrill trailed off as Lyna took both of her hands and held them against her lips, as if in veneration of their elders. Merill then saw wide and hopeful eyes upon her. As chaste as the gesture may be, it left the First breathless. She jerked her head away from her friend before the desire became unbearable.

"You're the most brilliant person I know, Merrill. I have faith you can find a cure." Bloody hands that cradled Merrill's face guided her back to the hunter. The touch offered little comfort and again she was lost in the pool of Lyna's eyes; fondness and pleading she had never seen for anyone was then offered to her. She would have been happy with her friend's confidence but the consequences of failure were too dire. Merrill's gaze strayed from Lyna's face when the latter nodded towards the forest. "I've tracked our sister clan's location, they're not too far. If we go now, we can reach them before morning. Keeper Zathrian should be more than capable of keeping the taint at bay."

Merrill had forgotten how stubborn the hunter could be. She shook her head and returned her friend's pleading look. "Lyna, even if I agree to this, the Keeper said you may not last the night and even if you do..." she swallowed the dryness in her throat. "What if we can't find a cure?"

Lyna seemed struck by Merrill's words. She took her hands away from the First and settled them on her lap, looking down thoughtfully. Merrill watched as her friend became lost in thoughts. She hoped the hunter would see reason, return to camp, receive healing and pack off with the Warden for her cure. Off never to be seen again. Merrill clutched at her chest, her heartache became too literal and real. Shouldn't she take the chance of finding a cure? It was Lyna's choice how to risk her life, after all, and she would be together with the hunter.

_Together, with Lyna. _

The earlier pressure became temptation. Merrill stared at the girl before her, the girl she had fallen in love with, the girl she had given up on before she even had a chance. A chance now presented before her. The heartache was replaced by thundering heartbeats, still quite unnerving but for a different reason.

"Then..." Lyna began and glanced up at Merrill, her face was obviously set with a decision. "Then I shall die among my People. I can't ask for anything more."

_Die._

The word echoed in Merrill's head. Eyes open but unseeing, all she could see was Lyna saying the word. And words. Again and again. Time lost meaning.

_I shall die among my People._

A world without Lyna.

_She is not mine. _

A small smile crossed the First's lips as she touched Lyna's face.

_She can never be mine. _

"If it means that much to you, Lyna, I will go with you."

A jubilant squeal erupted from Lyna as she flung herself at Merrill for a tight embrace. "Oh lethallan! Ma serannas! Ma serannas! _Ma serannas!_" she choked out in breathless gratitude. "I knew I could count on you!"

Merrill embraced her friend just as tightly and felt Lyna's joyful tears fall behind her ear and over her shoulder. She bit her lip and buried her face on the crook of Lyna's neck, inhaling the scent of forest, earth, blood and death. Merrill's fingers went to the back of the hunter's head, feeling a shudder from Lyna as her lips traced a trail upward from shoulder to ear.

"Merrill, what are you-"

The First's word came out like a prayer.

"Sleep."

Lyna stiffened but a moment before magic coursed through her body. As the hunter became limp in her hands, she murmured incoherent apologies to an unhearing ear. It was better this way. Her world without Lyna was better than a world without her. She pulled back and looked intently at Lyna's peaceful face, the pleasant dreams she infused with the spell had helped. With her eyes and fingers, Merrill committed every line, curve, and arch of the hunter's form to memory. Memories were enough. She then noticed the blighted shard laying by their side.

_At the very least, I owe her this._

Merrill pocketed the shard and saw faint torches become visible through the darkness. Her free hand pulsed once with the greatest light she could muster. The distant lights waved back and started their approach; the others would be upon them soon. The First once again stared at the sleeping form in her arms and her eyes were drawn to Lyna's mouth. She would probably never have a chance again.

Through tears, Merrill braved one last kiss on the sleeping hunter's lips.

"Dareth shiral, ma vhenan."

* * *

><p>Lyna fidgeted before the blond warden, looking suspiciously at the offered hand. Probably another human custom she did not know. The crease between her brows deepened. She just wanted to crawl under a rock and be left alone.<p>

The man must have sensed her tension and drew his hand back. "Uh, right..." the drawling voice made Lyna snap her head up and look at his face. He was looking at her, likewise with furrowed eyebrows. He seemed more confused than hostile, however. Lyna bit her bottom lip. If anyone should be confused, it should be her.

"Anyway, as you may already know, I'm Alistair." He made slight bow with his head, making Lyna more than surprised with the courtesy. He then flashed a bright smile to the wary Dalish. "And you are?"

Her jaw tensed at the question. The human was asking for her name. 'Lyna' was given to her and reserved by her closest and trusted kin. Kin who gave her to these humans and made an unwanted choice for her. Familiar faces flashed in her mind and their sympathetic smiles suddenly seemed like insolent sneers. Her body trembled with rage as one face emerged from the rest. She remembered how so easily Merrill once again called her 'Lyna', to gain her trust and say she cared, only to give up on her just as easily.

'Lyna' became her downfall.

She looked sharply at Alistair, caring little for his unease. She would do her duty, nothing more. She returned the slight bow and said her name, the only name her new world would ever know.

"_Mahariel._"

* * *

><p>AN 2: That came out sadder than I thought...ah well! I may write about Mahariel again, loosely following the pre-set 'The Martyr' in DA2. Let me know what you lovely people think.


	5. Epilogue

A/N: Okay, so this is more of a teaser than an epilogue since I _am_ writing a full-Mahariel/Origins arc, for anyone who cares. Can't just have the Warden pop out and rain havoc on DA2 Merrill without that, eh? It'll be fun, I promise!

Disclaimer: Characters property of Bioware and EA. Derivative works is from yours truly.

* * *

><p>The smell of aged parchment and weathered leather overcame the usual malodour of midday Lowtown, bringing a smile to Merrill's face. If there was anything the elf missed about Kirkwall's less glamorous district, it was its annual book bazaars. True, it was a pain to sift through the unorganized piles of romance rags, chantry texts and nug recipes, but for the coin-strapped book enthusiast like her, it was worth it. If luck was on her side, she might even find a book written in elvish as she had on her first bazaar. It took months to translate it but the passing mentions of the eluvian she later discovered had proved it worthwhile.<p>

As Merrill bumped against other bookworms and dodged her way through the scattered tables of merchandise, she found Elren, her favorite merchant. The elven proprietor was grateful enough for the rescue of his daughter's life that he had taken to saving any elven texts for Merrill before putting them out for general sale, along with a hefty discount. She raised a hand to call the man's attention but shushed herself in time, seeing that Elren was engaged with another customer. Instead, Merrill turned to the piles of books already beside her and idly browsed through the titles.

Hessarian's Spear...

Hard in Hightown...

Warden's Tattoos: The Complete Collection...

"Eugh," Merrill grimaced and immediately moved her eyes to the pile next to Elren.

Halamshiral: A Keeper's Account.

Merrill scrambled to the book so fast, she almost stumbled on Elren's then retreating customer. The cloaked figure deftly stepped aside, avoiding a direct collision with Merrill who merely brushed past.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

A flash of blue eyes shone through the cloak as the person spared Merrill a glance, then nodded before wordlessly walking away. His eyes were much like Hawke's, Merrill could not help thinking. A mage? How else could his eyes be so bright? She always thought the almost-luminous gems that were her lover's eyes were rare...quite disconcerting to find them on another. She inadvertently found herself staring at the figure's back as he retreated. Too slim to be a man. A woman then? A braid of blond hair peeked through the long coat as she disappeared into the crowd.

"Charming woman, that one," Elren remarked, tearing Merrill from her thoughts. She turned to face the elven merchant. A pleasant blush was on his face, perplexing Merrill. "Perhaps you know her?"

"Me? Oh Elren, you know I don't go out much. I hardly know anyone besides my friends," Merrill offered along with her much coveted book. As Elren took the book, she became thoughtful. "Well, there's my clan but I doubt they'd venture all the way out here...or should it be 'in' here, being a city and all? Hmm...Oh! I'm sorry! How much is it?"

"For you, Merrill? A mere silver," the merchant tendered the book, already wrapped in brown parchment. Elren then looked to the direction where his customer exited. "I just thought you knew her, being Dalish and all."

Merrill tilted her head in puzzlement. "Dalish?"

"Yes, Dalish. Guess you didn't see her face then?" Elren sighed in apparent loss then smiled. "Didn't think we could grow that tall, if you know what I mean. Blue eyes too. The only elf with odd eyes I know is that whore from the...Merrill? You alright?"

Merrill was pale and her jaw hung open. With a slight shake of her head, Merrill broke her daze then immediately voiced a wavering question. "Why was she here?"

"Err, she picked up a Tevinter book passed to me by a contact," Elren replied, drawing back from the desperate woman. His eyebrows then lifted. "Wait, so you do-"

Merrill did not have time to catch what Elren said as she had already waded into the crowd. She fought hard to keep calm, looking right and left at every person that might pass as the cloaked figure. Nothing, no one. Her pulse raced behind her ear; she couldn't have gone far, could she? She picked up her pace as she reached the stairs leading to the Hanged Man and scrambled on top of a crate. Merrill stood on her toes as she searched. Details that didn't fit melted into the background, she only sought and saw what she needed.

Blond.

_Her ashen face was shrouded in a fan of golden hair._

Nothing.

Blue eyes.

_Eyes like ice were upon her, fondness entirely gone and replaced by contempt with the bitterness of her betrayal._

No one.

Dalish.

_The lines on the girl's face were etched __in__to her memory. She needed nothing more._

A cloaked figure disappeared into the foundry's small dead-end alley.

Merrill leaped from the crate, almost as sure-footed as she was in the forest. The people of Lowtown suddenly became obstacles. Pity they weren't trees, otherwise Merrill would've dodged them with ease. Instead, she barreled through them like an blind lunatic. Cries of indignation and profanities were hurled as the lithe elf scrambled and bumped against them but Merrill didn't care. Her lungs burned. Had she ever run this fast? She can't recall. Her bare feet almost bled as she skid to an abrupt halt. She had reached the alley.

She faced an empty wall.

Nothing.

No one.

Gone.

Merrill fell to her knees and gasped for air. "Mahariel..." she hissed, before passing out.


End file.
